Six plus nine
by TurquaTortle
Summary: She was bewildered by the roses that arrived at her doorstep, double her surprise when she saw it was him, triple her surprise when he ran through an almost literate flood of rain just to deliver them. And its all for an apology. "Apology roses are cliché," she told her friends. "'But there's a meaning behind the numbers and colors", her friends replied.


**I need serious help.**

**I've fallen too far into the ship and I can't get up**

* * *

**Roses**

There was a knock at the girls' apartment door. "Delivery for miss D'artagnon." A muffled voice called from outside, barely recognizable.

Three pairs of eyes locked on the confused blonde, looks of confusion on their faces- but it was only brief, as the musician continued writing her notes for her ever so precious violin, the romantic going back to her novel, and the fashionista going back to sketching some new designs.

With a slight shrug, the other girl made her way to the door, it was raining cats and dogs outside, even an umbrella or a coat wouldn't do you any good. Whoever was outside their door must be lunatic, or whatever message they were sending was important.

Corinne twisted the brass knob and opened it, stepping up to the doorframe when she came face-to-face with a very much unexpected bouquet of flowers, freshly trimmed, freshly picked, and wrapped up in a gigantic ribbon - and the fact that they were _Roses _made her even more bewildered. Question marks made themselves clear in her thoughts. _This is ridiculous, _she mused to herself, fingers still lingering on the knob on the outside. Call her crazy and be it, but she felt butterflies of flattery dancing around in her chest. who on earth would-? Especially in such heavy rain! It'd been raining for hours as well. A lunatic, a crazy, generous, out of his mind, lunatic.

She looked up at the taller person holding the beautiful bouquet, and her face qwisted into a scowl on instant. Grest, just peachy ; who else to do something incredibly stupid and try to make it up with the most cliché trick in the book? Sir 'Iwannaflybutyoucannotbecomeamusketeer' himself. She forced her scowl into a frown and crossed her arms. "What do you want, _Your Highness? _" She sneered, obvious dislike lacing her voice. She tapped her foot impatiently, trying not to notice the rather large bundle of petals and thorns in his hands.

And that's when she noticed it, when she looked up at his face, he was completely drenched, and dripping from head to toe, some of the water droplets even landing amongst the roses. She almost had the heart to at least get him a towel, who knows how high of a fever you'd get while running halfway across the courtyard in pouring rain, _just _to give someone a bouquet of roses. Pathetic…almost.

The drenched man at her doorstep seemed to fidget, opening his mouth to say something and then closing it on several accounts. If she weren't in her 'right state of mind', she would've found the action sweet, if not adorable. But at the moment, she was furious at him, and needed to cool down before he did something stupid while trying to make it better- and then accidentally making it worse.

The blond haired woman just stood there frowning, tapping her foot impatiently, begging for the spell to be over with. It'd been less than half a day ago with her last encounter with him, ending with the previously happy woman to storm of in fury, anger being the aura which radiated from her. It had, in all honestly, felt like an eternity - even though in reality it was just a short three minutes, before the drenched brunette stared at his feet, gently thrusting the bouquet towards her, mumbling something incorehent and appologetic, though the woman's skeptical eyes were fixated on the flowers that rustled slightly from the movement.

Louis cringed, squeezing his eyes shut as he prepared for something like the sharp thorns of the flowers, to come in contact with his face. And then he faced confusion when, a minute later, there was only silence; no footsteps, no door opening and then closing. Nothing. rien Rien. Tentatively -after a few moments of severe hesitation- he cracked one of his eyes open, and then the other, and was surprised with the fact that she didn't even look furious, or angry - not even the slightest!

Instead, she was full-on confused.

And now he was too; well, that, mixed with the fact that he was beginning to get, just ever so slightly, scared. Scared about her reaction, that is. Wasn't she mad at him? Oh sweet raspberry yes she was, it took no blind man to figure that fact out. Was she upset ?- Because he brought roses? Through the pouring rain? Indeed much of a Romeo moment it had been, -even if there was no romance between them- but don't blame him, blame the guilt that was eating him alive; the blond woman being angry at him made his skin crawl, it plagued him. He was a gentleman, and known for his love for science and the fullest heart a person could have, he simply wasn't the one who could wait a day without apologizing, even if it was just a misunderstandment.

When the younger girl remained silent, and utterly confused, he knew that the message in the roses -more than one I can assure you- didn't quite get to her, so he decided to, hesitantly, speak up. Averting his gaze elsewhere, to refrain from instant shyness, and with a deep breath, and exhale, he spoke up, "Look, Corinne," She seemed slightly bewildered by the fact that he had remembered her name, which made him even more guilty.

"Earlier today, when...when I said..._that." _He really started to suddenly find it hard to say, but nevertheless, continued. "I-I didn't mean it l-like that, honest! I..I don't know what happened," He shamefully admitted, staring at his shoes. "It just came out that way and I had no intention of saying it, let alone meaning it." Moving his gaze from his shoes to her face, he nudged the bouquet a little closer to her. "I really do mean it when I say I'm sorry. I never wanted to hurt you."

Once again, Corinne stood speechless at the doorway, fully unaware of the fact that the other three -Namely the romanticist, would get suspicious considering the fact that she was taking way longer to get the mail or delivery -even though she didn't technically take it yet- than she normally would've. In fact, whereas it'd already been eight minutes, she normally took just a few seconds, home or not.

"I don't blame you if you don't." The brunette spoke up, hair -for the most part- dry.

"If I don't what?" Corinne spoke up, at long last voicing her thoughts.

"If you don't accept my apology." The other spoke. And when she didn't reply with an 'I significantly don't.' Or a blunt, straightforward No, he added, "But please," She looked at him with keen interest. He inched forward just the slightest, extending the bundle of roses to her. "Accept these." His voice held no emotion but sincerity at the end. Louis felt,some -most, almost all, of the guilt, go away when she accepted the peace offering; gingerly taking them from his hands, careful not to let their fingers touch, as if they were poisonous. He almost laughed at the notion.

"Well," The blond cleared her throat as she shuffled her feet awkwardly. "These are lovely," She smiled, and the other couldn't help but mirror it, the rest of the guilt washing off when he saw the slight sparkle in her eyes. "Thank you." She genuinely replied. Genuine her words were, the bouquet was flattering and the quite impromptu apology speech/ delivery really made her feel flattered, as before, and appreciated.

Glancing up almost shyly, the Prince gave her his trademark smile, which was of course, sideways. Kicking at some nonexistent dust, hands clasped behold his back, he took in the fact that the rain had slowed down to a drizzle and looked down at the girl again. "Well..," Sending a brief glance back to the rainclouds, he started. "Looks like the rain's slowed down." The blond agreed, seeming slightly surprised herself. "Well, I better be going." Shoving his hands into his pockets, he was about to sko-doodle down the steps and back into the Castle, had not the girl's voice rung in his ears.

"Wait!" The blond had called, and when he looked back at her, raising an eyebrow, she could've sworn that she briefly twisted her toungue. Grasping the handle of a random umbrella that was conveniently in her reach, she pulled it out, and walked over to stand directly under the edge of the roof, extending her arm, fingers grasping the wooden handle loosely. "If you're going to go back in the rain," She paused momentarily. "Might as well take an umbrella."

The brunette hesistated, but sent the girl a soft smile and gratefully accepted the portable roof. And as he grasped the handle, there fingers brushed, but the other didn't dare pull away, instead she let it linger briefly. "Thank you.." He said, opening the contraption, looking at her in the midst of it. And when the thing was open, he continued down the stairs, halting after a few steps, and without looking back, said the last part out loud. "Musketeer." He nearly laughed again when he heard the girl sputter and say something incorehent about the bright pink roses. He just waved, still not looking back, to hide the ridiculously large smile that adorned his face.

* * *

The moment she stepped back in, the romanticist bombarded her with questions, having finished her novel while the girl was out getting the mail -and an aoppology. "So.." The redhead asked cheekily, eyeing the rose bouquet that was bright pink. "Who was at the door?" Droning out the last word, her lips curled into a grin that would have put the Cheshire cat to shame. She absentmindedly swung her legs as she rolled onto her stomach.

"And why did it take you so long?" The violinist popped up, raising a dark eyebrow at her.

"And why are there only four umbrella's now?"

While the other girls gave Corinne questions of their own, the redhead's eyebrows lowered as she started counting the roses. "One, two, three..." She mumbled the rest and gasped with glee, shooting up from her bed, also taking note that the flowers were bright pink, she let out a squeal that didn't go unnoticed. The girl who received them looked at her questioningly; as if asking that she was mentally okay. When they just looked dumbfounded, she broke the news to them. "Fifteen roses! They mean 'I'm genuinely sorry' and bright pink flowers thank the person who received them! -although...six of them are a lighter shade." 6 = 3 = The three words that every woma- no. It couldn't be. They just met! Maybe it was unintentional, maybe the others just darkened slightly for no apperent reason. Yes, that was it.

"You don't just give six light pink roses to-!" But apparently the fashionista decided to voice her thoughts in that French accent of hers. They even heard a sarcastic 'do I even wanna know?' From Corinne, who rolled her crystal eyes. "Well," The fashionista shrugged, and her chocolate curls bounced. "I severely doubt that it was intentional, or it went unnoticed by him, but there are six lighter roses within the fifteen, and if I remember correctly, don't six roses mean Je te aime ?" She said the last part in French by reflex when the romanticist sent her a look.

"And there are nine remainders- Viveca, don't nine roses mean -" The violinist got the same look and accidentally blurted the rest out in French as well. "Ensemble pour toujours ...?" The blond girl in the group just blinked, not comprehending the statements quite well, saying something along the lines of 'You people and your French!' So, naturally, the redhead had to retort.

"Well, _excuse me, Mademoiselle, _but it was the _french _Prince you gave you that bouquet in the first place!"There were a few giggles, none from the blond, who remained silent, spoke up, confused.

"How'd you know about that."

She evesdropped.

* * *

The other day, while on their break of course, the blond, still quite rattled from the previous days' per say 'episode' decided to seek out the man, who just happened to be going in the same direction as she, and they bumped, accidentally. "Okay," The blond muttered with a laugh, putting a hand to her forehead, " We have got to stop doing that," With a chuckle, the other agreed.

Still quite curious of the flowers, she decided to indirectly ask him about it, he shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at the ground almost shyly, kicking some loose dust. His response was plausible enough; that there weren't enough bright pink roses to make fifteen so he compromised and used a lighter shade, also mentioning the fact that making fifteen roses tied up in a gigantic ribbon was very hard considering that roses have thorns, but he did it anyway.

She chuckled a little, looking up at him, and noticed that his nose was a bright red compared to the rest of his face. She bumped his shoulder with her own, telling him a very much song like 'I told you so' to which, he sneezed miserably into a tissue. Muttering something about how he hated getting sick, and his company just told him that he shouldn't have run in the rain yesterday, to which, he stubbornly replied. "It was for a good cause."

There was a reason she suddenly did-n't! Wanted the lighter flowers to be a bright red.

And maybe she spent a little too much time thinking about how to translate her roommate's words that were spoken in French. And who better to tell her than the person who's be ruling the kingdom? Louis, started coughing vigorously to hide his shock. Sure, there were only nine bright pink roses, that didn't mean that it says 'Together as long as forever.' They had only just really gotten to know each other only a day before! It wasn't some romance novel where Prince charming is in love the moment he sees the damsel in distress.

And he _certainly _didn't mean it when the light pink roses were exactly the number six, it was completely unintentional! There was no way in the whole of France that he'd propose to a girl he barely knew!

There was simply no way!

He looked at the confused girl, still sputtering, and decided.

Maybe not now,

But later.


End file.
